So now the ghost is married!
by Base 2
Summary: A young woman awakens by the lake below the Paris Opera House with no memories at all. Naked and cold, she is rescued by the Opera Ghost. Such a rare act of kindness could only come with complicated feelings, but what are those feelings exactly?
1. Awakening

**Summary:** A young woman awakens by the lake below the Paris Opera House with no memories at all. Naked and cold, she is rescued by the Opera Ghost. Such a rare act of kindness could only come with complicated feelings, but what are those feelings exactly?

**Disclaimer: **I do not own The Phantom of the Opera. None of it. Gaston Leroux is the rightful owner. I do own my OC, though.

Note! This is based on the original book "The Phantom of the Opera", not the play or movie, which have different stories.

  
"**So now the ghost is married!"**

The first memory I have is of awakening in total darkness. The complete lack of light was the first thing I noticed, and then the freezing cold. I could feel that my whole body was covered in goosebumps; I had nothing on to protect me from the cold. Panic washed over me, sending my mind reeling. I tried to roll onto my back, but my muscles screamed in defiance. I was lying naked in complete darkness and cold, not able to move. In a spasm of terror, I lost consciousness again.

When I woke again, the cold was gone, and the darkness was not so stiffling as it had been. I was lying on a bed, wrapped in several layers of blankets. As I found out when I tried to sit up, I could still not move, but the horror that had gripped me before was gone. My mind clearer, I attempted to think of where I could possibly be. I had no memories of anything before that first moment when I awoke in darkness. I did not know who or where I was. This disturbed me. I frantically searched my memory for any trace of information that might lead me to some fragment of my life that I could hold onto, but there was nothing there. The terror I had felt before was begining to return. A flicker of movement beyond the end of the bed captured my attention. In the next moment light flooded the room. Its brilliance compared to the semi-darkness I had awoke in blinded me. A cry of pain errupted from me.

"Awake, are we?" said a voice softly. The voice was gentle, yet at the same time frightening for a reason I could not explain.

I gave a quiet moan in response. My eyes were watering from the bright light.

"Ah," said the voice. I heard footsteps as someone crossed the room to where I lay on the bed. A dark figure came into sight, shrouded in a black cape and a mask that covered his whole face. The sight of such a figure stirred something in me that I could not understand at the time. A mixure of feelings, both of elation and grief.

From within his cloak, the figure drew a small crystal vial. With one hand he lifted my head and with the other poured the contents of the vial down my throat. I coughed and sputtered, trying to spit the liquid out. Suddenly I realised that though the concoction had tasted foul, it had restored my ability to move. I turned my head to gaze at the person standing above me.

"Who... who are you?" I stammered.

The figure turned away from me. Not looking at me, his voice so quiet that I had to strain to hear him, the figure answered simply:

"Erik."


	2. Don Juan Triumphant

**Disclaimer: **I do not own The Phantom of the Opera. None of it. Gaston Leroux is the rightful owner. I do own my OC, though.

Note! This is based on the original book "The Phantom of the Opera", not the play or movie, which have different stories.

Second Note! This whole thing also happens before the events involving Christine and Raoul and all that.

"So now the ghost is married!": Chapter Two

"_Erik."_ He said it so quietly. His voice was filled with a sadness I had not heard from him before. I opened my mouth to speak, but could not find words to say. I felt that I should introduce myself as well, but I did not know my name. Just as I was realising that I had nothing to say, Erik turned back towards the door where he had entered. I did not see him turn off the gas lights that lined the walls, but the room was suddenly plunged back into darkness. Just before the sliver of light that was the open door disappeared, I heard Erik say softly to me:

"Sleep now, you are tired."

I had had no intention of going back to sleep; I had far too much to think about, but as he spoke the words I felt my eyelids grow heavy. Soon I had slipped back into a dreamless sleep.

When I next awoke, I was determined to get out of bed. I had no idea how long I had been sleeping, but I felt that I had spent quite enough time lying still. I sat up quickly, then wished that I had not. My head began to ache and the room spun. I pressed my fingers against my temples and waited for the pain to subside. Once I could see straight again, I lifted the blankets off of myself and swung my legs over the side of the bed.

Pushing myself off the bed, I forced myself into a standing position. With my hands stretched out in front of me in the darkness, I felt my way over to where I remembered the door to be. I reached out for the handle and it gave easily. The door swung open to reveal a dimly lighted hallway. There was one door at the end of this, to which I made my way out of curiosity.

Upon reaching this door, I found that it was slightly ajar, and through it was coming a ghostly sort of music. I pushed the door open and crossed into a sort of living room, furnished with waxed mahogany chairs, an ornate mantelpiece over an empty fireplace, and dark hangings and tapestries on the walls. As I approached the center of the room, the music became louder. As I listened I was filled with a dreadful sort of sadness.

Captivated by the mournful tune, I began to search for its origin. The music seemed to be coming from behind yet another door at the far end of the room.

I crept slowly toward the door, determined to find the source of such hauntingly beautiful music. When I reached the door I carefully unhooked the latch. This door was more reluctant to open than the others, but I continued to try. The door finally swung open with a loud groan. Abruptly, the music ceased. I had just enough time to catch a glimpse of a room with black hangings all around and a canopy of red curtains before Erik leaped before me.

He gripped me tightly on the shoulders and my breath caught in my throat. His hands were colder than they rightly should have been, and his skin felt thin and waxy, like that of a corpse. With more strength than someone as cadaverous as him should have had, Erik forced me out of the doorway.

"Never, _never_, enter that room..." he was saying. "_Never_ listen to that music... to my _Don Juan_. That is not for you to hear... not for any mortal soul to hear. There is some music, yes _some music_, that is so terrible that it consumes all those who approach it! I will play you music that will only make you weep, but I will never let you hear my _Don Juan_."

As he spoke his fury weakened and changed to sadness, remorse. I was shaking my head, whispering '_No, not your Don Juan,_' for Erik's voice and words made me certain that I did not want ever to hear any more of his _Don Juan_.

"Yes," he continued, "I will play for you Mozart... do you remember the first act of _Idomeneo_? No, no, you do not... of course you do not... I will play for you and you will learn. You... you will love _Idomeneo_."

Erik's words now confused and frightened me, but I did not want to argue with him. I wanted to keep his mind off of _Don Juan_ and onto other things.

And so he played on his pipe organ for me. For hours he played, and he told me what to sing, and I sang. I sang until my head began to feel light and I nearly collapsed to the ground with dizziness. When Erik saw this, he stood from his organ.

"I am sorry," he said. "We will continue tomorrow." Then he held me around the waist and helped me back to my room where he laid me down on the bed. Erik had barely closed the door before I fell into a deep sleep.


	3. Dream of the Past

**Disclaimer:** I definitely still do not own any part of the Phantom of the Opera. Gaston Leroux does. Him and Andrew Lloyd Webber. But Leroux more so.

Note! This is based on the original book "The Phantom of the Opera", not the play or movie, which have different stories.

Second Note! This whole thing also happens before the events involving Christine and Raoul and all that.

"So now the ghost is married!": Chapter Two and a half

_I gazed down at the half-eaten corpse before me. How anyone would mistake it for him, I did not know. Though the face was completely unrecognizable, the structure of the body was all wrong. Too short, more stocky than it should have been. His clothes barely fit on this unfortunate body._

_I felt a tap on my shoulder. Looking round I saw a bear of a man standing over me, gazing at me kindly through his round spectacles._

"_You should be on your way soon, Azarin. Your brother is waiting at the train station. I have a carriage for you."_

"_Yes, thank you. We should be away from here before we are discovered." I paused, almost afraid to ask the question. "And... is he, I mean... They will see this corpse and think that he is dead but..."_

_The man grinned sympathetically. "The daroga has taken care of everything. Erik is on his way to Asia Minor as we speak."_

* * *

This is a dream, just in case you couldn't figure that out. Sorry it's so short, but I don't have a lot of time and I wanted to give you guys something. Thanks for the reviews, everybody! I have no idea when I'll be updating next, but I never abandon a story so don't give up hope. 

Historical note: Although glasses had been invented at this time, they were considered very unfashionable in most places. I thought I'd give this bear guy glasses anyway.


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